You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling
by bubble-rouge08
Summary: [SPaM] You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips. Peyton POV


_**A/N: Hey! I took a break from "November" to do this for a great friend of mine. If you are reading the mentioned story, remember Andrea? The real person that I've based her character on is named "Celine". I met up with her yesterday morning and well, she posted a challenge for me… write her a Peyton POV fan fiction in two hours.**_

_**And well, here it is. The story line is a bit common – I think I've written a similar chapter in "AFOM", my other SMACked story. But I hope you will like this just as well. I love this song so that's why I used it.**_

_**Please read and review. Thank you!**_

_**CSINY CSINY CSINY**_

**YOU'VE LOST THAT LOVIN' FEELING**

**© CATE**

_You never close your eyes anymore_

_When I kiss your lips_

_And there's no tenderness_

_Like before in your fingertips_

_You're trying hard not to show it_

_But baby, baby I know it_

Mac has been distracted lately. There were things in that mind of his that he won't share, won't talk about; he would just shut himself from the world. It makes me shudder to think that it's possible that he's shutting himself off only from me. Whenever I ask him if he wants to talk, instead of saying, "No," he would just shake his head and walk off.

I don't know when exactly it started. He would kiss me – that slow, deep and heartfelt duel of lips against my own that is capable of melting my insides to mush and make my knees weak. Sometimes, I laugh at the stupid thought that I think I feel ourselves become one with just a simple kiss.

But now, he would kiss me, yes. Yet, it wouldn't feel the same. There's a distant look in his eyes, straight ahead, and blank. I've always seen in the movies that in a passionate kissing, eyes are closed – feeling only the sensations of love and lust. When sight is impaired, the other senses are enhanced. Now? I don't close them anymore; I meet his own half-lidded eyes because I didn't want to feel how cold it had become.

It weren't only his eyes that are distant. His every touch would affect me to the core like his fingers are fire against my skin. Now, they're not even lukewarm, as if the fire had died and unattended. He would slowly slip the strap of my dress off my shoulder and run his finger from my neck to the valley between my breasts. The calluses only heighten my arousal, the heat of his breath against my cheek were enough for me to go over the edge. He carefully undresses me and he would praise me. Then, we would remove his own clothes and worship me the best way he knew how.

We reach our peaks, him before me, and that's it. No cuddling and most of all, no talking. He would apologize for coming first and then for having to leave early for a, "busy day tomorrow". I could tell from the way his eyes talked to me that that wasn't his only reason to go.

Something was on his mind and he wasn't in the mood to share. There was some place he needed to be. And _someone_ he needed to be _with_. Although he doesn't say it, _I know_. A woman always knows.

_You've lost that lovin' feeling_

_Oh that lovin' feeling_

_You've lost that lovin' feeling_

_Now it's gone, gone, gone, oh_

Back in college, a friend of mine had told me "A _girlfriend_ and a _girl friend_ are two _very different_ things". Why am I having a hard time believing that now? A space between the letters L and F does make a difference yet, is that enough to distinguish their _real_ difference? What is a girlfriend and what is a girl-space-friend?

I sure sound like a teenage girl in high school, back in the time when everything's a big deal. Very unbecoming for a former college professor and current medical examiner for the NYPD. It's funny how these kinds of things suck you back in to that adolescent turmoil you thought you've left behind.

The OAD defined _girlfriend_ as "a regular female companion with whom a person has a romantic or sexual relationship". And _girl friend_ as "a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations". So that makes me _Mac's girlfriend_. He also has this one special _girl friend_ – much prefer to address her as his _female friend_. Pangs of irrational jealousy attack me at the mere mention of that word plus the name of the woman.

She's not exactly the _other_ woman in this arrangement we have. In fact, she has been there long before I came along. What I'm jealous of… is the kind of relationship and the degree of closeness she has with Mac. Should I differentiate the two based on his treatment of us? Quite frankly, I think the only thing that separates the two (apart from the space in between the letters) is the fact that Mac sleeps with me and no with her. _Or does he?_

Oh Peyton, stop that! It's not nice to think that way about him and her. Mac does love me, I know that. And he loves her too. The question now, I think, is _how much_?

_Now there's no welcome look in your eyes_

_When I reach for you_

_And boy, you're starting to criticize little things I do_

_It makes me just feel like crying_

'_Cause baby, something beautiful's dying_

Her name is Stella. She is Mac's co-CSI and I think it's safe to say, his _best friend._ And lately, he has been caring for her and talking about her more than he used to. Not that it matters much; after all, he could read her like an open book and she's the same to him.

One time, I saw them together coming out of the elevator from the rooftop of the building. She was crying, I could tell and he was leading her to the locker rooms by the elbow. He wasn't forcing her or anything; more like he was holding her by the arm and she was following him. I looked the other way when Mac looked up and saw me. I can't let him see that I was getting jealous. Because that might be nothing – a friendly gesture between friends.

A few moments later, he comes out of the locker room, alone. He saw me waiting for him outside his office. I reached out to give him a hug. I know he was still on the clock but somehow, I couldn't help it.

We came out in the open a few weeks ago and it wasn't to anybody's surprise. I know Mac to her a few months back and I guess… I guess that's where it all started. Mac and Stella hadn't been spending as much time after he told her. He admitted that it was hard for him to tell her – she has been there for him when he's alone. And now that he's not… "I don't know how she'll take it."

I don't get why he's _that_ concerned. It's not like she's his ex or something. In that hug, he was a bit stiff and his hands didn't wrap around me, but instead were on my shoulders as if ready to push away. "Peyton, not here," he mumbled, pushing past me and into his office.

I followed him in and just stared. There was something on his shoulders and I'm pretty sure he's not going to talk about it – especially not with me. But I felt that it has something to do with the woman he just left. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to let her carry her own burden once in a while," I said, leaning against one of his bookshelves. It didn't matter to me if my tone has a hint of distaste. "Her problems shouldn't be your problems too." That sentence was out of my mouth before my mind told me not to.

Mac's head snapped up and his eyes were like burning embers. I knew I stepped over the line. But could you blame me for bursting out like that after bottling in my suspicions for so long? I might be – no, _I am_ a jealous girlfriend and I think I have every reason to be as such. My stare was unyielding against him and I've realized that I've stopped caring. "It's true. She comes to you with something and then afterwards, the whole world is on your shoulders. What… is _she _the _whole world_ now?"

He was still silent. He was gripping the back of his office chair until his knuckles turned white. I felt tears burning my eyes but I wasn't going to let them fall. "Don't talk about her that way," he barked. His gaze was burning holes through me; I wasn't expecting this.

"Mac, I'm…" I wasn't sure what I was going to say but it was a cross between an apology and a smart retort. But he was up on his feet before I could talk.

"Get. Out. Of. Here. Now," he said, emphasizing each word. He slumped down on his chair and got on with paperwork with nothing more.

I knew right then and there that whatever we have was crumbling down. I silently exited his office, leaving the dinner I brought for him on the small couch beside the door. I looked back one more time in case he'd change his mind and invite me back in, but he was engrossed with his paperwork and there was no place for me here.

_Baby, baby I'd get down on my knees for you_

_If you would only love me like you used to do_

_We had a love, a love_

_A love you don't find everyday_

_So don't, don't, don't let it slip away_

That night, he called me up to check if I was okay, if _we're_ good. I lied and said we were. He also called to thank me for dinner. I went straight home after our little episode in his office.

We talked some more… random things about the day and more apologies and the long-delayed talking I wanted us to have. But there was something in his voice that told me that there was something more he wanted us to tackle.

"Mac," I started. There was a lump forming at my throat. I didn't want to do this over the phone but it would be harder to do it at his face. "I don't think this second chance is working at all."

There was silence at the other end. "You too, huh?" he said after some time. This was a rare moment where we had the same thing in mind. "Look, Peyton… I'm sorry."

"I know you tried," I cut him off. "I felt that you tried but… but this isn't going to work as long as she's around."

"It's Stella, right?" I heard him whisper.

"Yes," I whispered back. "Look, I know she's a very special in your life. And I know and _hope_ that I am, too. But the thing is, I don't think I can stand being second best. You're my boyfriend _still_ and this might sound insane but I feel covetous every time I see you with her knowing that every glance, every laugh, ever conversation means more than necessary."

"Peyton, you're being unreasonable…" he started. But I wasn't going to let him control this exchange.

"How I wish you could look at me the same way you look at her, be there for me as you are always for her," I was sobbing slightly but I wasn't mad at him. I understood now where we stand and I just want him to realize that as well. "I could remember how many dinners and dates we had to postpone because work came first. As irrelevant as it is, the more you came to work, the more time you spent with her. Who am I to interfere that _bond_ you have?"

If only he could love me like he said he does. But he realized that he doesn't … _couldn't_. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between us," he said. It _couldn't _work out between us. "Stella's my friend but now I know – I know that…"

"She's taken up most of your life that she _became_ the center of it," I completed for him. I said that in a moderate and calm voice, to my surprise. It was hard to accept but it was harder to ignore it. "I'm not mad, Mac," and I'm not _blind _either, "It's okay. I know that now. And… I wish you the best."

"It was fun while it lasted, wasn't it?" he asked reluctantly.

I had to smile at that. "Yes, it was. And thank you."

_Baby, baby I beg you please_

_Please, I need your love_

_I need your love_

_So bring it on back, bring it on back_

It was inevitable that I will see him the next day at work. The first dead body on my slab was his case, his and Stella's. We both thought it was going to be hostile between us yet it wasn't. Sure, his glances and conversations to me weren't the same anymore – it hasn't been for some time. I missed him already. But seeing him lighter and happier now that he's free made me happy too.

Stella was still her old self, professional and cordial and headstrong. I admire her, I really do. And I envy her because she was able to capture Mac's heart and devotion without even trying – without even knowing it.

Our working relationship was going very well. The three of us were great together. And I found out that Mac and I were better off as friends than something more. The feeling is still there, but now we can laugh about it and label it as one of the finer moments in our lives.

As for Mac _and _Stella… well, I don't know for how long they can play 'pretending I don't know how you really feel about me'. It's fun and fulfilling to watch them banter, laugh, work silently together – even just sitting beside each other. They're not fooling anybody, not even Danny (who always gets to hear things last).

Sometimes I wonder what if we tried harder or what if I just brushed things off. But then again, we wouldn't be happy. Mac would still be longing for Stella and I would still be waiting for nothing.

I don't have any regrets on letting Mac go. In fact, I'm happy that I did. Sooner or later, these two will have to hit their heads on something and realize the other exists. And I would want to be there to see that moment take place. It is clear that they were meant for each other. And in situations like that, only time can dawdle the inevitable.

_Bring back that lovin' feeling_

_Oh that lovin' feeling_

_Bring back that lovin' feeling_

'_Cause it's gone, gone, gone_

_And I can't go on, oh_

**03/11/2007**


End file.
